Cat and Mouse
by Electric Smile
Summary: 10 years after the fall of Shadaloo and the death of Bison, Cammy has been able to settle into a more normal life, with a husband and children. But when Cammy is kidnapped and her kids the next targets, Vega is forced to keep her kids safe while he searches for her. The one responsible for the plan won't make it easy on any of them, and is dead set on exacting her revenge.
1. Chapter 1

I wrote this fic a couple of years ago, but I didn't like how it was going and ended up deleting it a few months later. So here is the new and improved version. :p

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"It isn't as simple as you're making it out to be, and I really wish you would stop."

He pressed his lips together, but stayed quiet. Anyone else, and he probably would've rebuked them for not listening to him. Instead, he felt slightly bad for upsetting her. Only slightly.

She crossed her legs and sat up straighter on the bench. Then she sighed. "I know how you are, Vega. No man is ever going to be good enough for certain women, from your perspective. And I suppose I fall in that category, for whatever reason. But that's not how life works."

"He wouldn't be leaving if he was good enough," he countered, and immediately regretted it. A pained look swept briefly over her features. It was strange to think of how, when she was first introduced to him, she was incapable of expressing any emotion. And now, it was impossible for her to hide them. She wore her heart on her sleeve, never again wanting to be put into a position of suppressing her feelings.

"There's more to it than that," she answered. But she knew, as far as he was concerned, anything any man did was wrong. It had come up in the conversation, and of course, he pushed the issue. He seemed to never pass up an opportunity to disparage another man. Maybe he thought it made him look better by comparison. It made her question why she was even speaking with him to begin with. She could've easily picked up a phone and dialed any number of close friends. She was still in contact with the other former-Dolls, save Decapre, who'd disappeared. It pained Cammy to think about, as she could probably guess how she was feeling. She couldn't remember everything about her past, but the earliest days she could recall were filled with confusion, pain, and helplessness.

It'd been ten years since the complete destruction of Shadaloo and Bison. Those who hadn't been arrested had scattered, gone into hiding, or found their way to the next criminal group that would take them. This time, Bison wasn't coming back, and none of them had any cause to worry over the repercussions of joining up with former rivals. Vega had been among the individuals who'd managed to get out of what had amounted to a war zone at the time, but not after sabotaging the personnel records of Shadaloo. She knew he'd done so to avoid being discovered for the criminal he was, but in that act, he'd unknowingly lifted a weight off her own shoulders. She'd killed people for Shadaloo. She couldn't remember any of them, but it didn't change the fact that she'd been an assassin, and those murders still haunted her. The prospect of going to prison for crimes she couldn't even recall committing caused many a sleepless night for her. It felt selfish to be relieved by the destruction of such an important tool in the hunt for Shadaloo's soldiers and employees, but she couldn't help it.

In that time, life became more normal for her. With Shadaloo gone for good, SIN a thing of the past, and Bison nothing but an unfortunate ghost in her mind, she was ready to move on. She couldn't forget everything, but felt like it was time to start living in the present. She stayed with Delta Red for awhile, and even though many of the jobs were still challenging, none would match her dealings with Shadaloo. Eventually she met a man, settled down, and married, the sort of thing normal people did. They had two children, and she loved them to bits. Sometimes, she missed the thrill of her old work, but she didn't miss the pain that went with it. She still kept in touch with all of the friends she'd made, making sure to take the time to see them every now and then. Colonel Wolfman was like an uncle to her children, spoiling them every chance he got. Chun-Li adored them, and her daughter was especially fond of the detective. Cammy lost track of the number of times she'd heard her daughter say that she wanted to be just like Chun-Li when she grew up. There was no bitterness over that. Cammy thought Chun-Li was a wonderful role model for her child to have.

Vega had been a sporadic and random presence in her life. There was a tenuous air of amicability between them. She supposed he came around when he felt lonely, as he didn't have much on his plate with Shadaloo gone. He'd disappeared off of the public's radar, too paranoid about being found out for who he really was now that he didn't have something to fall back on for protection. She would see him every few years, they'd talk, and then he was gone again. She wondered if he still killed people. It was another thing she felt guilty over. Was she complicit in his activities if she knew of his crimes and didn't try to turn him in? Whatever it meant, he'd spared her life and saved her from Shadaloo when he was meant to kill her, effectively risking his own in the process. Vega was generally not one for good deeds, so she felt like she had some kind of good influence on him. She wasn't sure if this excused her refusal to bring him to justice. A naive part of her thought that maybe if she had been turned from the path of heartless assassin that he could be, too. But she knew deep down that their situations were quite different. She could never bring herself to ask him if he was still the same murderer he'd been before, and it was information that she knew he'd never volunteer on his own.

It was the first time in three years that she'd seen him. She was living in New York now, and supposed it wasn't that surprising that he was here as well. It was a big city. They'd passed each other on the street, one hell of a coincidence in her mind, but he insisted he hadn't known she was here. He moved from place to place frequently, but she'd moved here for her husband's work. She didn't mind it, because it put her closer to a number of friends and acquaintances. She didn't expect one of them to be Vega. They both had somewhere to be at the time, but made quick arrangements to meet again. She didn't know why she always agreed to see him. He was dangerous, but, so far, not to her. The risks were minimized more by setting their rare meetings in public places. He wasn't careless enough to cause a scene and draw negative attention towards himself.

That's how she found herself sharing a bench with him in Central Park on a warm and sunny Tuesday afternoon. She regretted letting the conversation turn towards something so personal as her crumbling relationship with her husband. Vega had no romantic interests in her, but it didn't stop him from trying to convince her that she was better off without a man in her life telling her what to do. She wondered if he realized the irony in him telling her that, but left it alone. "When you're seeing the situation from the outside, you may not have all the facts," she added in defense of her husband. Edward was not a bad person by any means. But something had happened, and they found each other arguing more often than not. Not in a friendly way, but heated, angry discussions that generally ended when they realized they were trading insults more than actual meaningful words. The more they fought, the less they had to say to each other afterwards. He was on a business trip in Washington D.C., and she hoped somehow that the time apart would help things, somehow.

"If he's too stupid to appreciate what he has-which I guarantee you, all men are-then you are simply better off without him." He grimaced a bit as a pigeon bobbed closer. He waved his foot at it to scare it off.

Cammy smiled mirthlessly. "All men but you, I take it."

"So sue me. When I was a matador, some of the others-the men in committed relationships-frequently made a point of mentioning their extramarital affairs with pride. It was all I could do to _not _beat their faces in for betraying their pretty wives like that. Men are pigs_, _and I wish you would learn that."

She noted his use of the qualifier 'pretty'. As though the plights of the less attractive women weren't worth worrying over. It wasn't that he was shallow so much as it was a reminder that he was completely deranged. "I just have to disagree, I suppose. I don't think Edward is running around on me. I like to think I know him well enough to say he wouldn't do that."

He shrugged. "It's your life. I just wish you would cut ties and run. You don't need him."

"Thank you for your advice," she said, and he laughed at the obvious sarcasm in her voice. "But it's important to me that I try as hard as I can to fix all of this. Not just for him and I, but we've got our children to think of. I don't want to put them through something so stressful."

"God," he breathed, his eyes widening a bit. "I keep forgetting you have _children." _

"A lot of people my age do, you know."

"Yes, obviously. I just-" He paused, unwilling to state what he was thinking. He was getting older. Certainly being in ones thirties was not a death sentence by any means, but he couldn't shake that the number sounded too high. Forty was not so far away, and it terrified him. His own mother hadn't even made it that far. And time was cruel to everyone. He couldn't face the thought of his own mortality, and just shook his head as if to expel it all from his mind. "I mean, it's strange to think of. Do you like having children?" He didn't care one way or the other. He just wanted something different to think about. Children were something he had no desire of having in his own life. They were expensive, noisy, messy, and too much to pay attention to. It wasn't his idea of a fulfilling life to monitor constantly the well-being of another living thing.

"Of course I do!" she said. "They mean everything to me." She didn't expect him to understand. She sort of presumed he didn't care much for children. She'd asked him once if he'd ever murdered a child. The guilt of not turning him in had become too much for her to stand. If she'd been looking the other way as he did something as horrible as killing children, she wouldn't be able to live with herself. But he'd said no. Even if he didn't particularly care to be around children, he'd said they couldn't do something to warrant murdering, and he'd never been ordered to bring one to harm by Bison. So he drew a line somewhere, at least. She still probably wouldn't ever leave him alone with one. Not for fear that he'd hurt it, but for the fact he'd probably not pay them the attention required to keep them from hurting themselves. She looked again towards the playground for her own children. She spotted them on the swings and smiled. "There." She pointed them out. "The little blonde girl in pigtails. That's Laura, she's seven years old. And the little boy with the darker hair who she's helping into the swing, that's James. He's just turned two."

He looked over. "She doesn't look much like you."

"No, she takes after her father in that way. But James looks more like me." She watched as Laura made sure James was sat properly in the swing before giving him a push. "She's absolutely thrilled to be a big sister. It's reassuring. You hear about children getting jealous of each other, and I was quite worried over that at first."

Vega didn't say anything. He wasn't terribly interested, but let her talk. He'd never had any siblings, and never really thought too much about how he'd have reacted if that had changed. He supposed it would've depended greatly on who the father would have been.

"Do you plan to stay in New York for very long?" Cammy asked, changing the subject. It was pretty apparent he had little to say about kids.

"I'm not sure. I was considering returning to Europe."

She nodded. "Well, if you end up in England, send me pictures, won't you? I do miss it sometimes."

"So go back."

"It's not as simple for everyone else as it is for you," she said. "I have more than a few obligations here."

"No, you don't," he replied, a hint of irritation creeping into his voice. She saw how he seemed almost disappointed, or worried. "I don't like knowing you're in this position. That you feel trapped and tied up with a man. I don't like imagining where all of this may be heading." He tended not to face the deeper causes for how he felt. But for Cammy, it suddenly clicked as to why he was so insistent that she should abandon her husband at the first sign of dissent. His mother had died because she hadn't.

She shook her head as she thought of how to express that the situations were not the same without directly referencing his troubled past. "I see why you're worried," she said. "But I mean it. I'm not in any sort of risky position. Couples fall apart sometimes, and it just means they have to work hard again to put things back together." She hoped, at least. Discussions between herself and her husband about the state of their relationship tended to end badly. She frowned as she realized it wasn't just Edward's fault, by any means. When the other tried to discuss it, the one on the receiving end jumped quickly to the conclusion that the blame was being laid on them alone. Maybe she could have tried harder to keep from being so defensive, and so could he.

"I hope so, _gatita._ I would just..." he trailed off, drummed his fingers on the bench. He shrugged. He didn't want to see her get hurt. But she seemed so insistent that she could fix things. It angered him that she made it sound like this was all her responsibility. The man she married must've been an idiot to not properly appreciate her, and Vega fought the urge to find the man and tell him that himself. He knew, even if it was probably in Cammy's best interest, that she wouldn't approve of such a visit. He didn't want to upset her further by meddling in her life.

There wasn't a chance to finish the sentence. The pattering of small feet heading their way caught his ears, and when he looked up, Cammy's daughter was standing near. She was a cute little kid, with messy blonde hair, even when it was tied in braids, and clear, almost fierce blue eyes. She seemed to be sizing him up, the stranger sitting next to her mom, but she didn't show a hint of hesitation on her approach. She pointed to the bag beside Cammy's feet, and asked, "Mommy, can I use your phone? I want to take pictures."

"Alright, but please be careful with it," Cammy said as she reached into the bag. She checked first to make sure there weren't any missed calls or messages before opening the camera app and handing it over. "We'll be leaving soon, okay?"

She nodded, and took the phone. She glanced over at Vega, and quickly said, "Hi." It was the polite thing to do, she'd been taught. He nodded back and she hurried off to find her brother.

"She wants to be just about everything under the sun when she grows up," Cammy said. "Photographer, singer, dancer, painter, teacher... If you can name it, she wants to do it."

Vega didn't know what to say, and found himself asking, "Is she actually good at any of it?" He realized as soon as it came out of his mouth that it wasn't the most tactful response.

But Cammy smiled. "Oh, everyone thinks highly of their children's talents, so I'm hardly the best person to ask. It's important to be supportive, so I try to indulge whatever hobbies of hers I can."

"You're a kind person," he said suddenly without thinking. It wasn't that he was cheap with compliments. He never hesitated to tell a woman how pretty she was-as long as he thought it was true. But this was about someone's character, something he rarely found worthy of note in anyone.

She raised her eyebrows. "Oh, you've gone soft in your old age," she teased, but he didn't look happy about the remark. "You aren't _really _old, you know."

He shook his head. "I'd rather not discuss it."

"Well, I just mean, you shouldn't worry so much. Everyone has to grow up sometime," she said. She knew that very well. When she'd been given her life-her real, own life, not that of a Doll-she had to catch up with her age. Sometimes she cringed when she thought of how she used to behave at first, almost childlike, painfully naive. She was by no means cynical now, but perhaps a little more realistic with her expectations.

There was an uncomfortable silence then. She thought maybe they'd said all they had to say to each other for now. She put a hand on his shoulder, and he looked over at her. "I've got to get going now. Maybe I'll see you again."

"Maybe," he said, but doubted it. He wasn't a permanent part of her life. It was surprising that she even spoke to him at all, really, but he wouldn't complain. She was, as he had finally said, a kind person, and while they shared a sordid and turbulent past, she never threw it in his face and he did the same for her. He'd been so used to life as a socialite that he forgot what it was like to be a more or less average person. There were no parties to go to anymore to fill up all the empty time not taken up by Shadaloo. And there was no Shadaloo to provide direction or structure in his life. But she was still there, so he'd hold on to that one constant while he could.

Cammy stood up and called out to her kids. They listened, running over to her right away. The little girl held her brother's hand, careful to not move too quickly for him. "Hi," the girl said again to him. She spoke sort of fast, as if she'd run out of time to say everything she wanted and had to get it all out immediately. "Maybe we played with your son or daughter today. What are their names? They should come over some time."

"Laura, he doesn't have children."

"Oh, you just like the park? I like the park."

"He's a friend of mine," Cammy clarified.

"He can still like the park. We should go have ice cream. Can we? Do you like ice cream?"

"No," he answered, watching as she put her hands on the bench and started pushing herself back and forth from it.

"Oh, that's weird, you're a weird guy if you don't like ice cream," she said in a matter of fact voice.

"Laura," Cammy warned. "It's not nice to call people weird. Everyone enjoys different things."

"Weeeeird," the little boy drawled suddenly. "Weeeird, mister bee."

"Ohhh, you and mister bee again," Cammy sighed as she squatted to pick the toddler up.

"Mister bee is his imaginary friend," Laura explained, looking over at Vega again. She lowered her voice to a rushed whisper. "I know imaginary friends are not really real, but I know it's not so nice to ruin somebody's fun like that, so make sure you don't say that to him, okay?"

"Right," Vega responded. He'd never gone through that phase when he was a child, so he couldn't really relate. Why a toddler would want to be friends with an insect, one known for its painful sting, no less, was beyond him. But he didn't understand most things about kids to begin with.

"Say good-bye," Cammy said, her voice at a slightly higher pitch as she waved, trying to encourage her son to do the same.

"Mister bee says no," the boy protested in a halting, shy voice. "He says hi."

She looked over at Vega and shrugged. "Remember, if you end up in England..."

He nodded. "Pictures." She smiled. He watched as they walked away. The little girl raced ahead a few paces, then fell back beside her mother. He caught the little boy staring at him, but then the toddler suddenly covered his eyes.

He rested his head against his hand, wondering what to do now. Maybe he would go to England, just to get her the pictures she wanted. Sure, she could look at photos online, but pictures from someone you knew were different. More personal. It was plain she missed living there, and he didn't know why she wouldn't just take her kids and abandon this husband of hers.

For now, he had a hotel room not far from the park. He'd been living there for about a week. It wasn't what he was used to staying in, back when he was a matador. But it wasn't horrible, at least. He still had some money, but made sure to be more careful with it. He earned cash under the table doing what he'd always done-fighting. It was just as aesthetically unpleasant as it had been when he left it, but came with the advantage of keeping his skill set sharp, and his body active. He kept telling himself he would do this until he decided on something more permanent. But it had been nearly a decade of thinking that way, and he still hadn't figured out what else to do. He thought sometimes of returning to bullfighting. Surely there was more risk in being caught in seedy establishments that paid people to pummel each other. But then he thought of someone getting a little overzealous in researching where he'd been during his absence from the _corridas_, and it made him nervous to think they may somehow link him back to Shadaloo. The jail time for participating in random underground fights had to be less than that of being a former terrorist.

A noise beside him caught his attention. He looked down and saw a phone ringing. It wasn't his. Then he suddenly remembered, Cammy's daughter had set it on the bench when she rushed over and started doing those little half-hearted standing push-ups against the bench. Cammy must've forgotten about it. He picked it up. Her husband was calling, according to the display. He weighed whether or not he should answer it and berate the ungrateful ass for upsetting his wife. Ultimately, he decided against it, but only because it could have ended up making things worse for Cammy. He let it ring, waiting for it to stop so he could hopefully figure out what her address was.

He opened the map app, and found her home address. He made a note to tell her not to do that in the future-anyone could have picked this phone up if he hadn't noticed it. They could have done the same thing as he had and found her home, but with much less pleasant intentions. He frowned as he saw how far it was. Given that they'd met in the city, he assumed it'd be closer. But she apparently lived in the suburbs, and he'd have to take a cab. He hated cabs. With her phone in hand, he left the park, and headed for her home.


	2. Chapter 2

When he made it to her home, he dismissed the cab driver. There was a chance he could get wrapped up in a conversation and didn't want to pay the man to wait. Cammy's home was of average size in a nice enough neighborhood. The surrounding yards were neatly kept. There was no obvious trash or decaying property. The houses were not fancy or even very unique, and it was all disgustingly, remarkably plain. The sort of thing that gave him nightmares. Row after row of nearly identical homes, painfully average people to populate them. Cammy didn't belong here, he thought. She'd probably say he was thinking into it too much, that a safe place to live was all that mattered. He, naturally, would disagree.

The neighbor's dog ran along a chain-link fence as Vega approached Cammy's front door. The animal whined and let a few barks loose. He gave it a passing glance, never much liking the animals. Too many people he'd been ordered to kill kept very, very mean ones.

The porch door was propped open halfway, so he stepped through it without knocking. There were brightly colored toys in the opposite corner. Buckets, a little bike, balls with cartoon characters on them. He knocked on the door and got no response. He thought at first maybe he'd gotten here before her. That she could've gone out somewhere after the park. But the porch door had been open. Surely she didn't leave it that way if no one was home. He glanced back over at the curb. It was pointless. He didn't know what kind of car she drove, and couldn't tell if one of the vehicles parked next to the curb belonged to her.

He heard something on the other side of the door. Something like shuffling footsteps, maybe. That told him, at least, that someone was there. He listened for a moment, thinking maybe Cammy was about to open the door. But no, still no answer. He heard something crash noisily, like glass breaking. He narrowed his eyes a little, straining to hear more.

A strangled cry, muffled somewhat by the closed door, reached his ears, and he became too concerned to wait for someone to let him in. He tested the handle to find it unlocked, and dropped into a crouch immediately after opening the door. A muffled pop sounded as the silenced pistol that had been aimed at his face fired. He lunged, taking the black-clad man around his knees and bringing him to the ground. Vega pushed himself back up, planted a knee into the man's chest. The intruder gasped, tried to take a swing, and Vega jerked back away from the blow. Without thinking, he responded in kind, his fist crashed into the side of the man's head, and he wrenched the weapon from his assailant's grip. He let the magazine drop into his free hand, tossing it to the other side of the room. With the handgun still in his other hand, he drew it back and slammed it into the side of the man's skull. The guy dropped to the carpet. Another gun fired, and Vega fell back to the floor as the couch cushion a few inches from him was split open in a neat line. He looked up just in time to see someone duck behind the kitchen cabinets. He'd assumed this first man to be the only intruder.

He headed there, now wondering how many extra unwelcome guests were here, and what they wanted. He glanced around quickly as he moved through the house, trying to stay aware of everything at once. He caught sight of a pair of legs weakly kicking and stomping the floor in the hall, the rest of the body just out of view from this angle. It had to be Cammy. He was ready to abandon the intruder in the kitchen in order to help her, but remembered the man had a gun. If he turned his back he was an easy target and he'd never see it coming. This only served to anger him more, an obstacle between himself and Cammy's safety. He planted one hand on the counter that divided the kitchen from the front room, and vaulted over. The man hadn't been expecting him to come from that direction, apparently, as he'd been crouched low with his weapon aimed towards the other wall. Vega felt his feet connect with the man's shoulders, and he slid down, legs locked around the crouching man's neck. The man tried to push himself up, and as soon as he stood tall enough, Vega arched back, reaching for the floor with his hands. With the toes of his shoes digging into the man's waist and his legs tensed, he flipped the man over, bringing him face-down into the ground. He quickly pulled his legs back towards himself while the man recovered.

His opponent pushed himself to a standing position, hands clutching the gun tightly as he took aim. Vega took him by the wrists, disrupting the shot. The silenced gunshot rang in Vega's ears as the bullet buried itself in the kitchen floor. Fingers digging into the man's wrists, he forced the man back against the wall with as much force as he could muster over the small distance. The man struggled to bring his hands up, nearly succeeding when Vega did it for him, shoving his arms straight up into the air. The gun fired again, a small dusting of plaster raining down on them. The man kicked out one of his feet, taking Vega down with a heel to the back of his leg. He fell back, but returned the favor, taking out both of the man's legs at once. The gun clattered to the floor as the man threw out his hands to try to stop himself from falling. He heard him grunt when he hit the ground, and was ready to pin him when another gunshot rang out. He ducked back behind the counters. That shot had come from somewhere else in the house. As the man rolled onto his side to push himself up, Vega seized him by the leg, and pulled him closer. He needed to end this, or he'd lose Cammy to whoever these people were. He took the man by the back of his head, and slammed his face into the cabinets beside them. The man's eyes rolled back briefly, and Vega growled, getting impatient. One more time, the man's head collided with the hard surface, and then he was down.

Vega leaned out away from the cabinets to reach for the discarded weapon on the ground. He heard another pop and narrowly missed having his hand blown apart. He pressed himself back against the counter, taking a better grip on the gun. He hated using them. Everything ended too quickly when guns were involved, and they detracted somewhat from the potential artistry of a good fight. Who had a chance to execute any visually-pleasing attacks if someone could just end everything with the squeezing of a trigger? But now, at least, he realized the necessity of using one in this situation. The space between himself and Cammy was like a no man's land, and running out into it would leave him dead. He had to play by their rules if he was going to free her.

He inched towards the edge of the cabinets, and tried to peer around the corner. Cammy was on her stomach, and a pair of men were crouched on either side of her. One was tying her arms behind her back, while the other held her down. Her movements were slow and sluggish. He heard her try to call out, and her voice was strange. Like she was dazed, or drunk. His reconnaissance was cut short when he saw the man on the right lift his weapon suddenly. Vega ducked back just as something whizzed through the air where he'd been. The corner of the cabinet splintered. He waited, and peeked out again, weapon level with the head of the man on the right. He fired. The aim was off, but still deadly, bullet taking the man just under the corner of his jaw. Blood sprayed the beige wall behind him, and his head snapped to the side before he fell to the ground in a heap. The other got to his feet, pulling Cammy up with him. She groaned, tried with all her vanishing might to pull away. She could barely stand on her own two legs. Vega stood as well, wanting nothing more than to watch this man's brains spill out of the back of his head for daring to hurt someone so beautiful as her.

"Let's see who you hit," the man challenged, moving slowly along the wall towards the front room. Vega moved too, keeping his distance and his weapon leveled.

"Don't-no-my...my kids!" Cammy cried, her voice slurring.

"What did you do to her, so I know exactly how intense the retribution should be?" Vega asked.

"Stay where you are," the man ordered as he backed away towards the front door. "Don't move."

Vega watched, calculating the odds that he could kill the guy and not injure or kill Cammy in the process. It was too risky. And they hadn't killed her outright. Maybe he could follow them and get her back when the opportunity presented itself. Or could he? What were these people planning to do with her? And what if he couldn't get to her in time? No, he had to stop this now. But Cammy shook her head as her bleary eyes caught sight of Vega trying to get a clear shot. "Don't you _dare!_" she hissed. "You get my _children _out of here!" She struggled to remain conscious, groaned as the man's hand came up over her mouth. She kept trying to tell Vega to get them out of here, to find her husband, but her tongue refused to cooperate. It was nothing but gibberish anymore.

A high pitched scream drew their attention. Cammy let out a wordless, desperate cry as she felt tears spring to her eyes and she tried to call out to her screaming daughter. Vega looked once to Cammy and then back down the hall where the scream had come from. He was torn, wanting to keep Cammy from harm, but she was demanding that he save her children instead. "_No, no, no!"_ he heard the little girl shriek. When he looked back over, Cammy was gone. In a few quick strides he was at the door, looking outside for them. Down the street, he saw a vehicle turn the corner to the left. He could try to chase them down and save her, or he could keep her kids from being stolen as well. Cammy wasn't a lost cause. He'd find her. He'd end the lives of everyone involved in this horrid scheme in the most painful way he could think of. But if he let her children get kidnapped, Cammy would probably be too upset by that choice to be very thankful that he'd saved her. He felt an agitated groan rising in his throat and he shot down the hallway towards the sound of the screams. In the room to the right, one of the men in black was trying to pry the girl out of her closet. The man reacted quickly to his presence, momentarily abandoning the screaming child and raising his gun.

But not fast enough. Vega would normally have fought this man down with his bare hands, but he was in a hurry. He had the man by his outstretched arm, locking on tight, keeping that gun level. He dragged them both out into the hall, trying to stay on his feet even as the man attempted to trip him up while they moved backwards. His back hit the door of the room across the hall, and he dragged them both inside. He kneed the man in the stomach, let him go as he doubled-over, and fired his own weapon. He wouldn't say it was unsatisfying as he let loose the contents of the man's skull. It could have been better, but it was adequate, given his current level of agitation. He heard another round of screaming from the other room. He glanced back out into the hall to ensure no one else was coming, and returned to where the children were hiding. In the closet of what appeared to be the little boy's room, Cammy's kids were huddled together and looked utterly miserable. He didn't know what to do with them, but they couldn't stay here if someone was trying to take them. "Come on, get out of there," he ordered, waving at them.

"I want my mommy!" the girl shrieked at him.

"I'm going to find her," Vega responded, patience worn too thin to be much of a comfort to the girl. "So we have to leave, now."

"I want her!"

Vega sighed angrily, and took her by the wrist. He tried to be careful, not really sure how hard you could tug on a child's arm, but he had to get her out of the closet somehow. They had to move quickly if they had any chance of finding Cammy. The boy sat wailing in the closet, crying over and over for his mother. Vega wasn't quite sure what to do. He tried to get the little boy to stand up, but that seemed like a lost cause. He just kept crying. Another irritated noise escaped his lips as he finally reached down and picked the boy up. He'd never held a kid in his life, and just emulated how he'd seen Cammy and numerous other people do it. It felt like at any second, the squirming toddler would wriggle free and fall to the ground. "No, no, no!" the boy wailed, grubby little fists pounding on Vega's shoulders.

"We're all making sacrifices here," Vega muttered as he struggled to keep a hold on the boy. They had to move fast. He had no idea what sort of resources these people had or who they even were. There could be more on the way to clean the place up, to kill him for interfering, or to collect the kids next, so he couldn't take too long here. "Come on," he said to Laura, who seemed a little dazed now. His voice brought her back to their surroundings. He led her into the hall. It seemed like the only way to get things moving. Laura let out another cry at the sight of the next body on the ground.

"That blood, that blood!" she wailed as she began to cry hysterically.

Vega groaned at the way she refused to move any further down the hall. This was taking too long. "Just don't look if it bothers you so much!" he ordered, finally just pulling her along. She moved her legs in a slow, shuffling way, teary eyes fixed on the dead body the whole time. Vega tried to ignore her, instead looking for Cammy's car keys. The little girl screaming and crying was making it harder to focus. She was letting out such an awful sniveling noise now, and it distracted him from his search and his constant surveying of their surroundings. There could be more of those men waiting out here. He shifted the little boy's weight in his arm. There, on the kitchen counter next to Cammy's bag. He let go of the girl's wrist, and she screamed again, latching onto his leg. He nearly jumped at the screech and sudden contact, heart racing as he thought maybe he'd missed one of the intruders somehow. But a quick glance around told him that hadn't happened.

"No, no, no! Don't leave me here!" she wailed.

"Stop it!" he demanded, prying her arms off of his leg. She grabbed onto the end of his shirt instead. Her screaming had set off another rush of adrenaline in him. He felt his hands shaking a little more than he'd like. "I'm not leaving you here. I'm just getting these." He picked the keys up from the counter, and she watched with wide, wet eyes and trembling down-turned lips. "Now come on. We have to find your father."

"Daddy," the little boy said suddenly. "Going to see daddy." The babbling was much more preferable than the kicking and punching. He was only doing this for Cammy's sake, but even that motivation was becoming difficult to muster up.

Outside it was still bright, sunny and warm, the weather reflecting the exact opposite of his current mood. He clicked one of the buttons on the car keys, and the chirping, mechanical noise led him to Cammy's car. After a few minutes of struggling with all of the buckles on the little boy's car seat and reassuring the little girl that nobody bad was in the car, he found himself at the wheel. But he had no idea where to go.

"Do you know where your father is right now?" he asked.

"Work," the girl answered around small sobs.

"Yes, but where is that?"

"Somewhere," she said.

Vega put a hand to his head, drawing it over his face and willing himself to remain calm. "How would one _get _there?" he tried.

"Daddy went to see...mm, bresident!" the boy cried. Vega mouthed the word to himself, confused for a moment before realizing he was trying to say 'president'. President of what, he began to wonder, when he remembered Cammy mentioning at the park that her husband was out of town. He recalled thinking, but not saying, that business trips were often a cover for a man's adulterous plans. Cammy thought he was too suspicious already, and saying what he thought probably wouldn't help assuage such an image. The man was in Washington, and Vega sighed a little. He supposed the distance could be worse.

"Daddy's at work, mister bee's at work, work, work," the little boy babbled, kicking his legs. Vega shook his head. At least they were crying less. He needed to get these kids back to their father so he could start tracking down Cammy.

"Where are we going?" Laura asked.

"To a hotel," Vega said, heading back towards the place that had served as his home for the past week or so. He knew Cammy's husband was in Washington, but he had to try to figure out _where _in Washington. He'd have to take a minute to try to work out how to find the man. It wasn't wise to try to do so on a phone while driving on a highway, so going back to the room was his best option at this point. He grimaced a bit at how all of these detours were going to add up-driving downtown, finding somewhere to park, walking to the hotel, searching for a man who didn't have a terribly distinctive name, and then getting to another city. An anxious impatience began to gnaw at his stomach, and he hoped against all odds that he'd make it to Cammy in time.

"Where's mommy?" Laura said.

"I don't know."

"Adults are supposed to _know_," the girl huffed angrily.

"She's a child, she's a child," Vega whispered to himself, trying not to lose his temper at her as he tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. He shouldn't let it bother him that a seven year old found him ignorant. She'd gotten quiet as the drive went on. Traffic was picking up, and he didn't need any more of a distraction from her at this point. He had enough to think about. The girl occasionally spoke to her little brother, but Vega paid little attention to the words being said as he searched for a place to park that wasn't too far of a walk from the hotel. That was when Laura started singing in a horrible off-key way that children did, going on about the events of the day, the sound grating against his brain. It wasn't much better than the crying.

"...and the people in black took mommy away, and the weird guy, who hates ice cream, doesn't know any-thiiing..."

"You have to stop," he snapped.

"Stop," the little boy echoed, kicking his legs.

"Are we there? Is this my dad's job?" Laura asked, looking out of the car window as it suddenly grew dark. The concrete roof told her nothing about where they were, other than that it was a parking garage.

"No," Vega answered, taking his frustrations out on the gear shifter as he slammed it into park. "You're going to stay here with me for a moment while I find a way to contact your father." He got out of the car, glancing around at the dimly lit garage. He hated parking garages. The acoustics were always strange, making it difficult for him to properly gauge by hearing alone how close or far something was to him.

"I don't want to stay with you," she said.

"Stay with ice cream," the boy babbled.

"You don't have a choice, unless you want those men to take you, too." Her eyes widened. It seemed to work as intended, and she stayed quiet. He took her by the hand and picked the little boy up.

"No, no," he mumbled, half-heartedly smacking Vega's shoulders again.

He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut briefly. There was a strange urge welling up in him to drop the child and leave him there for somebody else to find. But he took a breath, reminding himself of how upset Cammy would be if he did that. This was going to be the death of him, listening to all of this whining and crying. The girl was not much better. She kept running ahead, then stopping suddenly, making him stop as well. He kept picturing someone grabbing her and bolting, and finally, when he couldn't take all the back-and-forth anymore, he took her by the hand. He thought at least this way, he'd stay next to her. But then she kept jumping up on empty benches, or other small curbs, balancing on them, yanking his arm up and down. This, combined with the stress of the situation overall, the horrific noise of New York City traffic, the sounds of the people around them, all made him want to scream when finally he caught sight of the hotel. He tightened his grip on Laura's hand, pulling her towards the building.

"I want to push the button, is that okay?" she said when they made it to the elevator. He thought about telling her no just to spite her for annoying him, but she was already pushing it. "What number?" she said once the doors opened.

"Ten," he answered.

"Oookay, going up," she said, pushing the number. It lit up. "One, two, three, jump!" she cried suddenly, jumping just as the elevator began to accelerate. James waved his hands at about the same time, smacking Vega's face in the process. His lips twitched down. Laura giggled as she almost fell after landing. She looked up at him, not at all trying to hide that she was judging him. "You're supposed to jump. It makes your legs squish up."

"No," he said.

"Mommy does it!" she responded indignantly. Vega was somewhere between agitated and amused by that comment. Cammy was, still, in a way, a bit of a kid. He watched as Laura tensed up again, knees bent slightly. "One, two, three, jump!" she shouted again, jumping up as the elevator decelerated. She laughed again as the doors opened. He took her hand quickly, afraid she'd run off without him. He led them to his room, unlocked the door, and let them in.


	3. Chapter 3

Her eyes fluttered open to the even sound of a humming motor. Immediately she noticed her arms were tied behind her back, and her legs were bound at the ankles. She let her eyes rove around her surroundings, never moving her head in an effort to keep anyone who might be watching from noticing she'd woken up. In front of her were the backs of car seats. Nothing was on the small floor space beneath her. She could make out a few dark forms over the edge of the seat, and she heard men speaking. "Which exit is it again?"

"You're looking for US1. Will you pay attention when I give you directions?"

"Fine, whatever. You sure we gotta go through Georgia? I always get tickets."

"Don't drive like an idiot then!"

South. They were most likely headed south. Where were they now? How long had she been out? Were her children safe? Did her husband even know what had happened to her? She kept herself calm. Working herself into a panic would only end up causing more problems. It was impossible for her to know just yet what these men were capable of, how observant they might be. Though, given their free and open discussion of their route without even checking that she was still unconscious led her to believe they weren't very good at their jobs.

"So how does she know that guy?"

"I don't know, I think she said he worked for Shadaloo when she did. Son of a bitch killed four of my guys."

The mention of Shadaloo made her tense, but these people couldn't be affiliated with that organization. It was long dead, and their level of professionalism seemed less than what Bison would have expected.

"Damn, for her?" There was a laugh. "He's schtupping this chick, I bet on it."

"Well I hope it was worth it, 'cause his ass is grass now."

She grit her teeth to avoid an outburst. Surely they weren't talking that way about her. It reminded her, though, of the unfortunate fact that her children were now under Vega's care. It wasn't the most ideal place for them to be. She didn't worry that he'd hurt them. But if the conversation going on in front of her was any indication, these people were targeting him next. Vega was not exactly easy to kill, but that didn't stop her from worrying that her children might somehow get caught in the crossfire. He didn't strike her as being aware enough of his surroundings to make an effort to protect someone else when his life was in danger. She racked her brain thinking of ways to get in contact with her husband, how she could get him to their children.

All of her thoughts ground to a halt when an authoritative voice cut through the chatter. "Enough." She knew that voice, and it made her blood run cold. "Did you once ever check to ensure that she is still unconscious before speaking so freely among yourselves?" Immediately, she closed her eyes and forced her face to stay expressionless. She couldn't let any indication that she'd heard that voice show, no matter how nervous it made her.

"Uh, no, ma'am, we didn't. Sorry." Cammy heard the rustling of cloth, could feel a pair of eyes on her. She tensed, expecting to be shaken or smacked or something to prove she wasn't faking. But nothing came. "Yeah, she's out." Their incompetence was going to be her best chance at getting out of this situation.

"Stay quiet, all of you. I have a phone call to make." She strained her ears, thought it was impossible to hear any noise from the phone over the sound of the car. With a subtle hint of mockery in her voice, her captor spoke into the phone. "_Privyet, _commander..."

* * *

He was trying to concentrate. The girl was not making it easy. Over and over, she jumped on the bed, shouting, "_Heee-YAH!"_ as she kicked one leg in the air. This made her little brother copy her, but he would kick one leg and fall every time. Vega finally couldn't ignore them anymore, turned away from the computer, and almost yelled, "_What _are you doing?"

"Karate. I'm a martial artist," Laura said. "I'm going to beat those guys up that took my mom! _Hee-YAH!_"

"Stop it!" Vega demanded. "It's distracting."

"I have to practice," Laura protested. "My favorite person in the whole world-besides mommy and daddy-told me practice makes perfect. She's going to teach me how to fight."

"I don't _care_."

"Well, _I _care. Miss Chun-Li is my hero! We should call her and tell her to help get mommy back!"

"No. Don't bring that horrible woman into this." It didn't surprise him that Cammy's children knew Chun-Li. And of course, the little girl idolized the woman. It was as if the world had worked in such specific ways to craft this child into something impossibly annoying.

The girl gasped loudly as she landed on the bed in a seated position. "How could you _say _that about Miss Chun-Li?!"

"Just stop talking so loudly," Vega said. He needed to focus on what he was doing. Naturally, Cammy's husband had a fairly common name, so searching for him on the internet was proving to be difficult and tedious. He was hoping to find the man's place of work and a number for contacting him. Even just some kind of company number would be a big step forward. But it was proving to be an impossible task with these children making so much noise.

"Well, Miss Chun-Li is a million times better than you. She likes ice cream and has good karate moves."

He felt his lips involuntarily twitch downwards. "First, no, she's not better than me. In any way," he said. "Second, she doesn't 'do' karate. She blends a few different styles." Or she had, when he last fought her. That had been a long time ago. She still worked as a detective, but had also taken on work teaching martial arts to children. He hadn't seen her in years, and wouldn't risk it if he had the chance. He knew she would just love to be able to get him a life sentence, and he had no intention of letting that happen.

"You know about fighting?" the little girl asked, apparently suspicious of his claims.

"Yes," he answered shortly, wanting to get back to his search.

"What karate do you know?"

"_¡Dios mío! _Not everything is karate!" he cried. "Let me do this!"

"Okay, but you have to teach me your karate."

He slumped over on the desk, covering his head with his arms and groaning. The little boy imitated him, making a similar noise. Vega inhaled slowly, evenly, trying to regain his composure. His voice was muffled as he buried his head in his arms. "I'll teach you whatever you want if you just _shut up._"

"Promise?"

"Yes."

"Okay," she said finally. She found the remote for the television, putting on some cartoons. Vega now wondered which was worse, the obnoxious noise of the television, or all of the 'karate' sounds. He rested his head against his hand as he tried to pay attention to the words on the screen. Edward after Edward, none of them the right man. He wished he hadn't left Cammy's phone behind, but he'd forgotten about it in the heat of the moment. He tapped his fingers against the keyboard lightly, not pushing any of the buttons enough to actually type.

He looked over, and both of the kids were still entranced by the cartoons. It was almost eerie, how well television seemed to work as a pacifier. He took a quick bathroom break. It was just a few minutes all in all, but when he came back out and looked over at the empty bed, his heart skipped a beat. The television was off, and the children were gone. He drew a hand over his face, cursing under his breath. He couldn't have taken his eyes off of them for more than three minutes, at most. How had they been taken so quickly? How had he not heard anything?

He rushed out into the hall, looking in both directions. No sign of anyone. He took the stairs, unwilling to wait for the elevator. He paused at one of the thresholds he passed when he heard the little girl calling loudly, "Come on, James!" Out in the corridor, he caught sight of a small, dark-haired toddler ambling along from the elevators at the other end of the hall. Vega shouted out to him right away, but the little boy didn't even stop. James disappeared out of sight around the corner. Vega jogged towards the child, his worry quickly becoming replaced by irritation. They hadn't been stolen-they left the room because they felt like it. Didn't they realize he had enough to do without having to hunt them down, too?

There was a door slowly falling shut, and he went in. The smell of chlorinated water reached him. There was a pool. No one was in it, except for James, standing on the first step. The clear water reached up to his ankles, and he bent over to splash at it with his hands. He giggled wildly as if it were the most amusing thing on the planet. "Stop!" Vega snapped, envisioning the little boy, already so unstable on his feet, slipping in and inhaling a lungful of water. He couldn't imagine how Cammy would react if he'd let her child drown. In a few strides, he was at the edge of the pool, scooping up the boy and setting him back on the deck. "You could have drowned!" The toddler stuffed a fist into his mouth and babbled. Vega rolled his eyes. This was the level of discourse they were at now. "Where's your sis-"

Before he could finish, a wild cry of "_Hee-yah!_" echoed in the room, and a small form jumped up and pushed him. He slipped on the wet deck, falling backwards into the pool. Water rushed up his nose and he coughed violently when he resurfaced. His throat and nose suddenly felt on fire, and he coughed again, rubbing at his eyes. His feet found solid ground under the water, and when he finally stood up again, it reached only up to his thighs. He rubbed his eyes again, water dripping into them from his hair. When he finally stopped coughing, he could hear laughter. "My karate beat you!" Laura crowed as her little brother chortled.

He glanced quickly around the room to reassure himself no one else was present. A chill ran through him, the air above the surface seeming frigid now due to how wet he was. "Do you want those men to kidnap you?" Vega said. "Maybe I'll take you back to your home and leave you there for them to find!"

The laughter stopped, and Laura slowly shook her head. "No..." she said meekly.

"Don't _ever _leave that room unless I tell you," he ordered. He dragged himself out of the pool, irritation growing with every second that passed. "I'm trying to find your parents, and you aren't making this easy! The next time you leave my sight, I'm not going to go searching for you! They can have you for all I care!"

He regretted saying it almost immediately. Not for hurting their feelings, but for the world of noise he'd just invited himself into. Laura's face crumpled, tears sprang to her eyes, and she took in a few gasping breaths before she began sobbing loudly again. James followed her example. He was getting so tired of the sound. It grated on the mind like nothing else he could think of. Vega gritted his teeth to keep from snapping again when the girl clung to his wet legs. "No, I don't want them to get me!" she wailed. "I want my mommy!"

"Mommy!" the boy echoed.

"Let go!" Vega demanded. She did, sniffling and looking up at him. "We are going back upstairs. You will both sit on the bed, quietly, while I try to get in touch with your father. You understand that?" She nodded and wiped her nose on the back of her hand. He grimaced. Children were bizarre and sometimes disgusting. He was happy, at least, that the other one didn't still wear diapers. He took hold of Laura's hand-making sure it was the one _not_ covered in snot-and picked James up. He glanced down at himself, ashamed at how he looked right now. His hair was clinging to his face, his shirt was practically transparent now, and nothing felt worse than wet denim and shoes.

Naturally, they couldn't be the only people on the elevator and he had to hide how embarrassed he was to look like such a wreck. He didn't miss the way the young woman looked over him, eyes lingering a bit on his torso. He kept his eyes fixed on the panel displaying the floor number. She couldn't have been much older than twenty, too plain to be of interest to him. When he was her age, she would have been something like ten years old, or possibly younger. The age gap thoroughly disturbed him, another taunting reminder of how old he was getting, that it was a process he couldn't stop. It made him more annoyed for her to be studying him, like she had even the remotest chance. As if to mitigate the awkward silence of an elevator ride with a soaking wet stranger, she said, "You two have to go easier on your daddy."

"He's not our daddy," Laura said back indignantly. "Our daddy isn't a mean jerk."

Vega realized that the statement could sound a bit alarming. "Step-dad," he said quickly. He hated to ever think of calling himself that, but the alternative was for this woman to wonder what a man was doing with two kids who weren't his, and what he'd done to earn the title of 'mean jerk'. That could cause concern, and he didn't need anyone else bothering him right now. "Hopefully. One day." He supposed that would suffice. Kids disliking step-parents was not all that uncommon, after all.

The little boy burst out into laughter.

The elevator doors opened on his floor, and relief washed over him. Almost there. He tightened his grip a little on the girl's hand, afraid she'd bolt at any moment. But they made it back to the room without any further incidents. "Go sit over there. Don't move off the bed," he ordered as he locked and latched the door, just as he had before.

She nodded. "Come on, James, let's leave mister mean alone," she mumbled, taking her little brother's hand and helping him onto the bed. Vega ignored her, instead searching in the closet for dry clothes. A thought struck him, and he looked back over at the door. The lock, he could see Laura being tall enough to undo. But the latch near the top of the door was a different matter.

"How did you reach the latch?" he asked. He grimaced at how his undershirt felt stuck to him like a second skin as he took a pair of pants from the closet.

"Mister bee can do it!" the boy blurted.

Laura shrugged. "He said mister bee did it, but I don't believe him."

"He did it, he did, did do it!" the boy argued.

Vega knew he'd locked it specifically because they couldn't reach it. He went to the dresser to get dry underclothes. "Who is mister bee, exactly?" Vega asked. He knew he shouldn't think too much into the fact that Laura didn't give a real answer as to how the door got unlocked. It was probably just the two kids conspiring together to make his life as horrible as possible, and they didn't want to get into trouble.

"He's my big friend," the boy said simply. "He says _hi!_"

Vega glanced up at the boy's reflection in the mirror and-

He spun around quickly, studying the room. Had he really seen that? He looked back at the mirror, his heart beating a little faster now. He didn't see it anymore, but he could've sworn for a moment that someone was standing beside the bed. He had to have imagined it. His nerves were shot, he was worried about Cammy and frustrated with dealing with these children. He'd been mistaken, that was all.

Vega jumped when the room exploded with noise. The television and computer were both blaring, one playing cartoons and the other playing music. The little boy looked as though he might start crying again. Laura was griping about the noise, covering her ears. Both of the electronics were at a much higher volume than either one had been set at during their prior use. "Turn it off," Vega ordered to Laura over all the noise, waving a hand at the television. He closed the music player that he'd never opened to begin with, but the noise didn't stop. He looked back at Laura, who was scrunching her nose at the television remote as she pressed the power button over and over. Growing less and less comfortable by the second, he closed the laptop, flipped it over, and ejected the battery. The music stopped, but the television still yammered on. Laura was standing in front of it now, pushing the buttons on it frantically.

"It won't go off!" she whined. He unplugged it. The noise stopped, leaving them all in a tense and uncomfortable silence. That, Vega knew, he couldn't pass off as his imagination. Both of the kids had reacted to it. "Why did it get so _loud _in here?" she demanded of him.

He didn't know what to say. "Maybe a power surge," he said, waving a hand. He thought it sounded convincing enough to a child, but a part of him realized power surges generally turned things off, not on. If he didn't have that explanation though, he'd have to face the fact that he had no idea what had just happened.

There was an overwhelming sense that someone else was in the room, and he couldn't shake that feeling. He searched every possible hiding place he could think of. Having been a former assassin, he thought he knew all the good ones. Of course there was no one there but the three of them. He tried to tell himself he was just getting worked up over nothing. Electronics did strange things some times. That was all.

When he finally concluded that there were no intruders in the room, he had a chance to change his clothes. He left the bathroom door open just enough for him to see out of it. The last time he'd come in here and not paid attention, it hadn't worked so well for him. If the two children tried to leave again, he'd see them this time. But they sat quietly as they'd promised, still a little rattled by all of the noise. The fresh change of clothes should've made him feel a little better, but it didn't. He hated being on edge like this. Those kids were likely to get over it quicker than him because they'd think less about it. An adult had explained the situation, so what was there to dwell on? Of course they wouldn't think that he'd just taken a stab in the dark.

Just as he reached for his phone on the desk to check for messages, it began to ring. He laughed, more than a little unnerved. The strange feeling of being watched by something he couldn't see hadn't left, and this coincidence only made it worse. It read 'private number' where normally it would display a phone number. That didn't bode well, but he couldn't let it keep ringing. He stepped back towards the bathroom and answered it.

"_Privyet_, commander." The color drained from his face at the sound of the voice thick with a Russian accent.

"How did you get this number?" he demanded of her.

"I have the knowledge of many useful things," she responded. "I have the knowledge, for instance, that you are located on the tenth floor of the hotel at 1st and 15th. The curtains are blue, a darker shade than the shirt you've just changed into. You are standing right now in the bathroom. Perhaps you feel frightened. Perhaps you are unused to being the one who is hunted."

"What do you want, Decapre?"

"You know already, don't you?"

He glanced over at the kids on the bed.

"Yes, good answer."

He clenched his jaw, both furious and terrified that she seemed to be watching him when he had no idea where she was watching him from. How long had she been keeping track of him, and why? He hadn't really even thought of her in years, so why was she resurfacing now? "Where is Cammy?" he asked, knowing she had to be involved with what had happened. He'd heard there was no love lost between the two former Dolls, though not for trying on Cammy's part. He vaguely remembered a conversation with her years ago where she tried to hash out why Decapre despised her so much, why she hadn't instead recognized Bison as the reason for her suffering. Vega didn't care much for what Decapre thought, too disgusted by her.

"Killer Bee is incapacitated at the moment. Maybe, though, we can reach an agreement. Give to me the children, and you will see your _favorite _Doll again."

He noted the bitterness in her voice. Now without the restraints of the Doll programming, she was able to feel and express emotions. She didn't do so as freely as Cammy did, but was instead more subtle. "What are you going to do with them?" he asked. It was severely tempting to give her what she wanted to make sure Cammy was safe again. However, if he did that, he was certain Cammy would never forgive him. He thought, maybe, if he could just bait Decapre into meeting with him, into making a mistake, then he could end this. Decapre was not quite as strong as Cammy, so Vega thought it stood to reason he had a chance in taking her down himself.

"I do not answer to you anymore, commander."

"Is that why you're still naming me as your superior?"

She was silent for a moment. Had she really been calling him that without realizing it? He would've laughed, but he wanted answers. "You've had your chance. Enjoy your evening, _Vega. _I intend it to be your last."

Before he could say anything else, she was gone. He cursed, squeezing the phone and feeling like breaking something. They couldn't stay here. She was watching them, from somewhere. And if she'd managed to kidnap someone as strong as Cammy, it meant she had resources. He looked at the kids, sitting quietly on the bed, and he told them, "We have to leave, now."


	4. Chapter 4

She couldn't pretend to be unconscious forever. She'd listened in on as much of the conversations as she could, but due to Decapre's earlier warnings, the men had switched to more innocuous topics. Her call with Vega had been short, and it'd taken all the self-control Cammy had to not scream at the woman at the mention of her children. She racked her brain, trying to figure out what Decapre could possibly want with them. The most horrific possibilities came to mind. Decapre hated her for reasons beyond Cammy's control. So how far would the woman go to make her suffer? How much danger were her children in?

"Change of plans," Decapre announced suddenly, and Cammy listened, hoping for any small amount of valuable information. But Decapre was purposefully vague while speaking. "I was not expecting this...pursuer." She said the word with disgust. "I will take no risks and make no assumptions when it comes to him, so our journey must be expedited. Here is your new route. Say nothing of it aloud." She must have been speaking to the driver. Cammy was through with listening silently. It was plain she wasn't going to learn anything through inaction. She drew her knees to her chest, passing her bound legs through her arms, and she forced herself up as best as she could.

"Yes, ma'am," she heard the man behind the wheel respond.

Blurs of green and brown passed on either side. The sky was darkening with storm clouds. Cammy took a breath, hoping to calm her nerves and alleviate that awful, empty feeling in her stomach. "Decapre." All eyes were on her now, save for those belonging to the one she'd named. Even the driver, she noted, had glanced up at her through the rear-view mirror. "This has to stop."

"Stay quiet, _kotyonok,_" she said, refusing to turn back and face her.

"You can end this, right now, and I'll forget it ever happened," Cammy offered. Maybe it was naive, but she had to try something.

"Forgetting, dear bee, is not a luxury that all of us can afford." There was bitterness in her voice, and Cammy despaired to think that the woman was too far gone to reach. She'd tried, just as she had with the rest of her sisters, never forsaking any of them. They'd all suffered, and she wanted to do everything she could to help them. But Decapre was the only one who wouldn't allow it, who never even gave her a chance. She spoke in Russian, and she saw one of the men digging through a bag.

One of the other men made a triumphant noise suddenly. "Got a fix. You were right about avoiding the highways. Two of our guys are closing, ETA thirty-five minutes."

"Tell them to paint the asphalt with his blood," Decapre said, practically spitting the words. "But ensure the children's safety."

Cammy gritted her teeth. She had to keep calm. No sense in giving Decapre any kind of edge here. No need to show her how to push her buttons. "Decapre, whatever this is, you _don't _have to do it," she tried instead. "We can try to work something out, together."

"Is she still awake?" the woman asked sharply.

Cammy's eyes locked on to the man who sat back up, flicking a syringe. Decapre wasn't an idiot. Leaving Cammy awake was too much of a risk, and she knew that, even restrained, she was still a threat. So Cammy did what she could. In a flash, her zip-tied arms were around the neck of the nearest man, pulling sharply on him. He sputtered as she choked him, his neck bent over the edge of the seat. She put her weight into him as she brought up her legs, abdomen straining. Her shoes knocked clumsily into the side of another man's face as he grabbed for her. She felt his hands on her ankles.

Decapre wasn't even watching, instead gazing out the window. Cammy growled as the man she was choking got his hands on her face, trying again and again to push her back. She thrashed as the other man got her legs pinned against the seat. "Hold her," one of the men said.

"No!" Cammy cried, trying to get her legs free, but it was too late. She felt something sting her leg, and she growled again, venting all her frustrations into that noise. A pair of hands took hold of her arm, yanking her off of the first man she'd assaulted. Maybe she wouldn't be getting free this time, but she had to keep fighting. She had to do everything to get away from here, and to save her children. Her vision clouded, she was pushed back down to her seat. Blinking rapidly, she fought to stay conscious. Her eyes settled on Decapre, and she felt her teeth bare briefly, almost as if on instinct. Cammy could see her withered and scarred skin, her eyes cold and determined, and before Cammy sank down into her seat, she wondered desperately how this would all end.

* * *

He checked out of the hotel immediately. It was really difficult to juggle his belongings, a toddler, and the little girl as he tried to get to the car a few blocks away. Cammy made it look easy, but the little boy wouldn't stop wriggling, the little girl wouldn't stop running ahead, his bag wouldn't stop slipping off of his shoulder. His nerves were already rattled-first by the sudden responsibility of these children being thrust on him, then the strange explosion of sound in the hotel room, and finally with the call from Decapre, one of the last people on the planet he wanted to hear from. Stepping into the parking garage, he was met with a cacophony of car alarms for no obvious reason, and it was enough to make him want to turn back and find somewhere else to get a car. He tried to remain aware of his surroundings, but the noise and flashing lights served as a huge distraction. Laura was whining about it, covering her ears.

The thought struck him that something could have been done to the car. Decapre or one of her associates could have hidden a GPS tracker on it, or even explosives. He then had to try to thoroughly search every inch of the vehicle while making sure the two children didn't run off or get snatched up. It had taken entirely too much time to do all of this, and those alarms continued to blare all the while. For all he knew, Decapre could be heading for them, just seconds away. When he finally considered the car to be safe to drive and had the two kids in the back seat, he gave himself a chance to think about the situation.

He knew Decapre wasn't exactly fond of Cammy. He'd be surprised to learn she was fond of anyone, as she was probably the Doll with the most significant leftover turmoil. While the others had carried on with their lives, the stress of their pasts fading over time, Decapre had disappeared. Cammy said she never spoke to her, even though she was still good friends with all the rest of them. So for whatever reason, Decapre seemed to shun their friendship. But why? And why was she focusing on apparently ruining Cammy's life like this? He strummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he thought about it.

It took some time, but they finally made it out of the more congested areas of the city. He briefly considered going back to Cammy's home in the suburbs, and at first, decided against it. If he was being watched, her home was as well. But he had no other way of figuring out how to find her husband. If he could slip in just long enough to grab her phone...

"Where are we going?" the little girl wondered, agitation plain in her voice.

"I don't know," he answered absent-mindedly. It was almost an automatic response at this point. Things were still too confusing, and he didn't like that the girl kept trying to get him to answer all of these questions.

"You never know _anything. _Are you stupid or something?"

Again, he bit back a cruel response. Something about how little girls were supposed to be sweet, and less annoying. But he was an adult. He kept telling himself that, anyway. "Stop talking, or I'm going to leave you at the next intersection."

"What's an intersection?"

He groaned loudly. It was a right at the next corner, wasn't it? This was risky. Why had he been foolish enough to forget the phone to begin with? No, it wasn't _his _fault. He had a pair of screaming children to deal with at the time, and there was Cammy to think about. So of course he forgot something that would've seemed so inconsequential at the time. This one wasn't on him, he decided.

Cammy. The thought of her at Decapre's mercy was enough to make his blood boil. The way the woman had described her as being 'indisposed' gave rise to a number of disturbing possibilities to explain what had happened to her. There was no telling what Decapre would do to her. He thought of the first time he'd ever met Decapre. How unsettling she was, not just because of her ugliness, but because he'd never encountered a person so soulless, so emotionless. A life without some kind of passion wasn't one worth living. It was part of the reason he wanted to keep Cammy from Shadaloo-something so beautiful shouldn't be kept in such conditions. Maybe Decapre hated him for not giving her the same opportunity, but he didn't care. He wasn't going to inflict that monstrosity on society.

He took a wrong turn at some point, cursing under his breath in Spanish about the maze of identical houses typical of American suburbs. He'd lived his life in busy cities. Places with history, character, beauty. He wouldn't be caught dead owning a home in a place like this. "We're going home?" James asked. He decided out of the two children, he liked James better. He was more prone to crying, yes, but he was also generally quieter. Unlike Laura, who seemed to take some pleasure in annoying Vega as much as possible.

"Briefly," he answered.

"Breefy," James echoed, kicking his legs.

"That means just for a second," Laura explained to him.

He took a breath, staring at the house from the curb. There was no obvious sign that it'd ever been broken into. No way to tell from its placid exterior that inside, there were...three, four corpses? He looked up and down the street. A few houses up, there was a car parked on the curb. Could mean trouble, could just be neighbors. Finally, after what felt like hours but had only been three minutes, he looked back at the kids. "Laura, come up here."

"Daddy says it isn't safe for littler kids to be in the front seats," she protested.

He didn't have the patience to explain that was only true of cars in motion. "Just do what I'm asking you for once," he said. How could he feel so exhausted?

She pressed her lips together and out, something like an angry duck. "Fine!" She crawled up into the passenger seat, glaring at him all the while.

"If anyone but me approaches the car, I want you to start hitting the horn." He pointed to the center of the steering wheel.

At that her face lit up. A chance to make noise and be annoying, surely she would love it. "Anyone?"

"Anyone."

"'K."

He left the car, still nervous about leaving the kids out of sight. He kept trying to tell himself it'd be just a minute or so, that he could do this quickly. He was already dialing Cammy's phone with his own, listening for it as he pushed open the front door. It was on the floor in front of the couch. He remembered now, how the first thing to greet him had been the barrel of a gun, and he'd abandoned the phone in the process of reacting to that threat. This whole trip felt redundant, like a waste of his time, but he'd had to get the kids away from here at the time. Desperate to get rid of them himself, he'd tried to find Cammy's husband online, only to realize that wasn't going to work for him. This was his last, real option, so he had to come back here.

The blaring and beeping of a car horn reached his ears, and his heart leaped into his throat at the noise. He snatched up Cammy's phone, and dashed back out to the car, ready for a fight. He sighed when his eyes found the person approaching the car-a woman in her forties walking a dog. The little girl, he thought, was the second-most horrible creature on God's green earth. She smiled sweetly at Vega as she opened the door to get back to her seat, daring him to make a remark in front of her neighbor.

The woman had been in the process of waving at the kids in the car. When she saw Vega approaching, she seemed a bit surprised. It struck him that she'd probably been expecting Cammy, given that this was her car, her home, and her family. He was at a loss for words, deciding to skip a conversation entirely. He threw a dirty look at Laura as he passed her.

"You said _anyone_," she said in her own defense.

"Excuse me?" the woman called. "Sir?"

The world was out to get him, he swore it. He glanced up at the woman, as if just noticing her. "Hello," he said, calmly as he could.

"Where's Cammy?" the woman asked.

Why was she asking that? He sighed to himself, the answer obvious. Some stranger had just left her home in a rush, with her kids, and her car, and she was nowhere to be found. Of course a neighbor might find that a little weird. Where was this nosy woman a few hours ago when people were breaking into Cammy's home and kidnapping her? "She's feeling a bit sick," he said quickly. "I'm giving her a hand with her kids for the day."

"Oh," the woman asked, glancing back towards the house.

"You probably shouldn't bother her," he continued, not liking the look of worry in the woman's eyes. "Pretty contagious."

She didn't seem satisfied. "Well, Laura, James, I hope your mother gets well, soon."

Vega felt like his stomach was in knots. Laura traipsed back to her seat, determination writ on every inch of her round face, and she said, "We just have to find her first!"

"Find her?" the woman repeated, concerned eyes flicking from the little girl to Vega. She pressed her lips in a thin line before asking, "What'd you say your name was, sir?"

"That-" Vega held up a finger, shook his head. "Ah, well-Nice talking to you." It was time to get out of here. This woman was asking too many questions and he was running out of patience. If he just got these kids to their father, it'd be over. His hunt for Decapre would be more direct, no need to stop for anything. With the door closed, he heard the muffled sound of the woman calling to him again. This was just great. "Do you enjoy making my life as miserable as possible?" he snapped as he got the car moving.

"I don't know," Laura said in a sing-song voice. Even now she was mocking him. "That was Ms. Elizabeth. She's our next door neighbor, and has a fun dog. Do you have a dog?"

He ignored her. Anything he had to say to her at the moment might scar her for life. He brought up a route to D.C. on his phone, and marked the option to avoid the interstates. That's where Decapre would expect him to be, most likely. It was getting late, and he wasn't going to find Cammy with these kids in his care. He'd contact Edward with Cammy's phone once they were in the city. He worried that doing so too early might lead to the man calling the police, and he didn't want to get any cops involved. They'd ask too many questions, wonder how Vega knew Decapre, probably underestimate the woman as well, rendering them useless anyway. Maybe Decapre would contact him again, giving him some way to arrange a meeting with her. He could feign acceptance of her proposal for a trade, and hopefully subdue her.

No, that was foolish. Decapre was likely not stupid enough to show up alone. Unless he made that one of the conditions for a meeting. The conversation with himself bounced back and forth from positives to negatives as he thought about what to do, driving further and further from the busier parts of the city. In his concentration on the discussion going on in his head, he began to pay less attention to the road around him. He responded automatically to the vehicles, slowing when they slowed, accelerating again to meet the speed limit. He vaguely noticed that there were fewer cars altogether, lanes dwindling. There was so much _nothing _between major cities.

"Can we put the music on?" Laura asked, pulling him from his thoughts. He glanced at her in the rear-view mirror, she had one hand outstretched towards him. "I'm bored." That declaration caused him grief, and he knew that _nothing _good could come of this child being bored.

"Fine," he conceded, feeling for the music player he'd seen laying in the cup holders. He passed it back to Laura without looking, and she hummed while she looked through it, tongue stuck out in concentration.

"Okay, my favorite song. You can pick the next one, okay?" she said. He snorted, but took it back and plugged it in. How kind of her. He let it play.

"_I threw a wish in the well, don't ask me I'll never tell..."_

He grimaced a little, but thought of the 'bored' alternative. He could handle what was a fairly typical, inoffensive pop song if it meant avoiding something worse. But then the girl started crowing along with it. "Hey, I just met you! And this is craaazy! But here's my number, so call me maybe!"

"You _must_ stop," he sighed.

Something hit the window beside him with a loud 'thwack'. He glanced at it, saw a divot in the glass, and all at once it dawned on him what was happening. A man on a motorcycle was keeping steady in the lane beside him, arm stretched outward. A handgun was aimed at about head-level. He let out a curse, angry with himself for not staying more aware of his surroundings. He spun the wheel left, trying to ram the guy. But the motorcycle engine roared as he put on the throttle, pushing forward.

"Whoa!" he heard Laura cry. "That was like a roller coaster."

"Hold on and keep as low as you can," he ordered. He knew the people wanted the children, and were likely to only target him. But bullets were not always as exact as the people firing them intended. The motorcyclist was in front of them now, and he pushed on the gas. But the lighter vehicle was faster, and much more maneuverable. Vega watched him closely, when sudden movement beside him again caught his eye. He reacted just in time, slipping lower in his seat and hitting the brakes. He heard something whiz through the air and there was a hole in the window, cracks spreading over the glass. So there were two of them.

The engine roared as he hit the gas again. The car jerked forward, the engine not quite powerful enough to accelerate so quickly, and wind whistled noisily through the hole in the window. The second motorcycle raced to meet him, and the guy slammed an elbow into the cracked surface. It splintered further, but still held together. Vega once more tried to plow through the biker, but he drifted away, and dropped behind him. He cursed again, frustrated. He caught a flash of black as the motorcycle zipped beside and in front of the car, and heard the distinct pop-pop-pop as he fired his weapon. One shot glanced off the side mirror, bits of plastic, metal, and glass raining onto the asphalt. Another came in through the upper corner of the windshield and exited up through the roof. Vega hissed when he felt something bite into his arm, but panic overtook him when he heard the little girl scream. He looked back, and saw she was pressing her face into the seat. He saw a hole in the cloth of the seat. If she'd been sitting up, she'd be dead, and he let loose an anxious breath. "Are you okay?" he asked, just to be sure.

"Somebody pushed me!" she wailed.

Vega couldn't afford to wonder about what she meant. He had too much to focus on, and cut to the most important question, "Are you hurt?"

"They're shooting us!"

He sighed angrily. She was too scared to answer him, but he didn't see any blood and had to keep assuming she was all right. He glanced down at his arm. The cloth of his shirt was ripped away in a small, straight line, the skin beneath smeared with red. It'd just grazed him. That second or so of distraction was all his pursuers needed. Laura screamed again when the driver's side window fell apart, sending the glass into the car. It didn't rain glass like a normal window might, but came off in cracked, splintered panes, one at a time. Vega gritted his teeth, let one hand off the steering wheel, and grabbed for the motorcyclist. He had the guy by the arm. The bike wavered, the car jerked away, and the man was clinging to the car to try to get back his balance. The motorcycle fell away noisily, an oncoming car in the opposite lane blared its horn and slammed on the breaks to avoid hitting it. Someone would probably be calling the police at the sight, if they hadn't yet already. The man kicked his legs desperately, trying to keep his feet off the pavement speeding by beneath him. Vega tried to elbow the man in the head and knock him loose, but the helmet he was wearing made it difficult. He felt the cold barrel of a gun under his jaw, and his hands immediately went to the man's wrist.

The struggle was brief. With the man preoccupied by clinging to the speeding car, he couldn't fight much as Vega forced the his other arm back towards himself. When the gun was aimed back at the man's own head, Vega found the trigger and squeezed it. Laura shrieked at the noise. The man fell away instantly, tumbling to the road. That left him with the gun, and one more assailant.

The second man hadn't stopped, wasn't going back for the body of his fallen comrade. There were more gunshots, Vega had lost count of how many. Something zipped by his ear, and he gritted his teeth. Too close, too close, he had to end this. Again, he slammed the gas pedal, the car lurched forward. He heard the roar of the motorcycle as it accelerated to catch up, and then-

Inertia threw him forward against the seat belt, restraints digging into his chest and stomach. He heard something crash into the back of the car with a noisy 'thud' and the squeal of collapsing metal as the motorcycle wrecked into the bumper. There was another series of thuds as the man's body hit the roof of the car, Laura screamed, and suddenly someone was tumbling down over the windshield. Vega threw out his arm, firing immediately, saw a spray of red, but cursed at the lousy shot. Nothing vital, though the man had to be shaken up, if not seriously injured by the wreck. He saw the man's gloved fingers grasping for a hold on the hood, and he aimed for that instead. One shot, two-

The man screamed, and Vega saw blood against the white paint of the car about where the man's hand had been. Not wasting a second, he shifted the car into reverse, and the man fell away to the road. There was another crunching and squealing sound as they hit the motorcycle, and he shifted back into drive. He debated with himself as to whether or not he should ram into the man, but ultimately decided against it. Like he needed to put another dent in this already abused vehicle. He watched the man carefully as they raced towards him again. He was rolling onto his side, trying to force himself up, to reach his abandoned weapon. A bit of relief came to Vega as he realized these threats were essentially nullified now. The man faded from view as he sped up, leaving him to wonder how many more threats lay on the road ahead.


End file.
